


Floating 'til we stop

by tigg71



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 21:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13866780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigg71/pseuds/tigg71
Summary: Set way in the future and a long-established relationship. Things are not right and Bradley wants to fix them





	1. Chapter 1

When they arrive, dusk is falling and the sun reflects burnished gold off the glass panels of the pyramid at the Luxor casino. It rises out of the desert, out of the middle of nowhere and is the first hint of the scale of Vegas’ audacity. Colin is tired from the flight but still managing to wonder at the sheer insanity of it all.

“Welcome to Las Vegas,” Bradley says, excited, as Colin simultaneously yawns and presses his face against the taxi window to see the sights. Bradley knows that Colin's never been here before, and he can't wait to show him around.

Once the bustle and the check-in formalities are taken care of and they’re finally alone in their room at the Palazzo, Bradley takes Colin’s hand and leads him over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. They stare out at the lights, across at Treasure Island and the volcano of the Mirage, flickering fountains of colour lighting up the sky.

Bradley peels Colin’s clothes from him piece by piece, pressing him against the thick silvery glass of the window--he saw it once in a porno flick--and makes love to him. Their hands interlock against the flat coolness of the window pane, bodies driving towards mutually entwined oblivion until the heat from their skin condenses against the glass and runs downwards in tiny rivulets.

The pyrotechnic canons explode from the pirate ships across the road and Colin laughs softly, breath puffing out of him with the rhythm of Bradley’s thrusts. Fireworks spark high into the night.

“Go on, say it.” Colin laughs, anticipating Bradley’s familiar brand of bad romance.

Bradley nuzzles the damp hair at the back of his neck and whispers, “Surprise.”

Colin stumbles to bed afterwards, flushed and with the sheen of sweat still glazing his skin.

He’s asleep, spread across the enormous bed, by the time Bradley comes back from the bathroom. Bradley lifts the covers and shuffles onto his side, knees drawn up to fit into his space between Colin’s outstretched leg and his arm.

He watches Colin a moment longer in the half-light hoping that this will break the spell of whatever has been troubling him for months now.

Bradley’s not really sure how long something had been up with Colin, but he had noticed when Colin had raced back to Ireland unexpectedly…

Bradley had come home late one afternoon to find Colin’s overnight bag packed and waiting in the hallway.

Bradley had one terrified moment on the threshold of their doorway, when he’d feared that Colin was leaving him. Then logic had caught up and he'd rationalised that if Colin was leaving, he’d need a damned sight more than an overnight bag to fit his half of all their years into. The house had seemed too big when they first bought it, but after all this time, it was brimming with the flotsam and jetsam of their life.

Colin had been reading; sprawled on the couch where he always tries to catch the last of the evening light slipping away. He'd placed his book, open and spine bent back, down onto the rug before getting up.

“I’ve just got to pop home for a few days,” he’d said, the moment Bradley had cleared the hallway. “I need to sort out some family stuff with Mum.”

Bradley had crossed to him, instantly worried. He’d asked, “Is everything alright?”

Colin nodded into his shoulder, “Yeah,” he said slowly, “yeah, I think it will be.”

Bradley had eased Colin out to arm’s length, hands wrapped around his shoulders and looked at him. Colin seemed nervous and worried, chewing his bottom lip. Bradley hadn’t been sure whether to ask or not - especially since Colin hadn't offered any of the details.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he settled for, trying to catch Colin’s eyes.

Colin avoided his gaze, chewing at his lip a moment more. He folded himself into Bradley’s arms. “Not yet,” he’d said quietly against Bradley’s neck, then even softer, “I will when I’m sure of everything.”

They’d shared a cuppa before Colin had to leave. He’d declined Bradley’s offer to take him to the airport; Bradley was tired, Colin knew, after all that yelling and bossing people around from behind the camera, and Colin had told him to get to bed. But Colin’s time was his own just then, he had two weeks before he was due to start rehearsals for this third run of Richard III.

They kissed at the door before Colin slid into the taxi. Bradley dragged him in for another lingering kiss. “Goodbye,” Colin had said.

Colin had never been one to say, ‘Goodbye.’

When Colin had come home again, he’d gone straight into rehearsals and had immediately been caught up in the play. All Bradley saw of him was a whirlwind in and out of their house at odd hours, but he'd noticed that when Colin smiled, it never reached his eyes.

Bradley hadn't been able to think of anything more like a change of pace than Las Vegas. He'd secretly booked it for straight after Colin's play would finish its run. For once, their schedules had actually both lined up.

'So here we are,’ Bradley thinks, lying in the dark watching the neon numbers of the clock count onwards. Colin is breathing softly beside him and sleep is smoothing the lines away from Colin’s eyes, the tightness in his jaw. It’s only when he wakes up that they appear again.

Realising half an hour has gone by with his musings, Bradley lifts the covers and abandons his place next to Colin for the sunken lounge area with its array of plush armchairs.

He reaches for his wallet out of habit, fingers sliding over the leather, knowing that inside is his favourite picture and it’s his little security blanket, his tic. He likes to run his fingers over it when he’s troubled. The photo, a news cutting actually, might have faded but Colin’s joy in the picture cannot be wearied by time.

Bradley has never doubted their relationship. He'd never had cause, before now. He thinks back to that momentous occasion where it had all clicked for him.

In the middle of sadness, when he'd been at his most vulnerable, he'd found trust and forever and tenderness. That moment was the first instance when he’d known with absolute certainty that he loved Colin and the terror of it and all that entailed.

Maybe, just maybe something good will come of this--whatever this is--Bradley laughs sarcastically to himself. He knows they’ve weathered storms before and they can do it again - come out the other side staunchly together and the better for it.

They’d been at Richard’s funeral. He’d been such a fine friend to Colin, always available to him. They’d remained close even after the final series of Merlin. Colin had always been able to turn to Richard for advice, and they had been such firm friends over the years. Richard had gone from strength to strength for another three years after that until the final, dreary battle with the cancer that had taken him...

Colin wore a charcoal suit. Bradley had always loved him in that suit, and the candy pink tie that Richard had given him for his birthday just the year before. 

Bradley had stood by Colin’s side in the gentle spring air as Richard had been laid to rest. Colin trembling beside him and Bradley repeating over and over to himself, ‘breathe, just breathe,’ as Colin’s arm brushed his.

As the coffin was lowered into the grave, Colin let out a sob, hand flying to his mouth to hold the rest in. Tears slid down his wan face and Bradley looked to him.

He was so beautiful. So incredibly beautiful and it had rushed over Bradley in an epiphany, that was at once so life-altering and so mundane. He loved him.

Bradley saw himself laid out, laid open. He loved Colin.

He was totally vulnerable, exposed in a horrifyingly confronting way that someone, that Colin, had the power to break him so utterly. And he knew it was real. It was scary and wonderful and in that one awful moment he also knew that he was brave enough not to turn away.

That day he’d turned to Colin--he’d jerked back; they never touched in public--smiled softly at him and taken him into his arms.

“It’s okay,” Bradley’d said, pulling away to smile encouragingly at him and smoothing a hand across his pale cheek to scuff dark hair out of his eyes. “It’s o.k, love,” Bradley had repeated and pulled Colin in for a kiss. Softly sealing their lips together, in front of the whole congregation and their friends and the press. He lingered for a moment longer until Colin’s cool mouth seemed to warm under his, then pulled back.

“Bradley,” Colin had said simply, another tear spilling from the dark curve of his eyelashes. He tucked himself in against Bradley’s warmth as Richard settled into his final resting place.

The press had a field day.

But really it had only been a day or so before they’d moved on to the next tasty morsel of celebrity gossip. The neonet fan-boards had lit up for about a week and then it had blown over. Bradley was glad it was 2017 and no one was so bothered anymore - things had come a long way since they first started seeing each other.

The good thing was that they had finally bought that house together, just like they’d talked about. Hallelujah for not having to maintain two separate places anymore.

Two hours after they had taken possession of their house, Colin was photographed stepping onto the back veranda wearing nothing but a towel and a hickey the size of Australia. He was grinning happily and his hair was still mussed from Bradley’s fingers.

Colin Morgan. He was always a subtle guy…except for when he wasn't.

Bradley actually unclasps his wallet now and takes out the cutting. He runs his fingers over the age-softened paper and the faded black and white image of Colin’s mussed hair. He looks over to Colin, sprawled easily across the big bed, the back-lit clock numbers unforgiving in their march towards morning. Another hour has gone and Bradley’s no further in figuring out what the problem is.

Gently, he folds the cutting along its crease lines and eases it back into the protected spot in his wallet. He shuffles his cold feet against the carpet as he moves back to the bed, lifting the covers to fit himself against Colin yet again.

Sighing softly, he scoots just a little closer in the bed, rests his hand where his fingers fit into the corrugations of Colin’s ribs, and closes his eyes hoping for sleep to come.

****

They’ve settled into a holiday routine; Bradley’s just back from his morning tour of the treadmills, has already showered and is drinking milk straight from the carton with the mini-fridge door wide open, when Colin bursts into their room. He’s late. Late back from his habitual fifteen laps of the pool, but he can’t have finished too long ago because Bradley can see the telltale curl of his hair at his collar which means it’s just transitioning from that level of wetness where he could squeeze drops out with his fingers to something more closely resembling damp.

Bradley freezes with the carton still to his mouth when the door bangs open.

“Guess what I’ve done?” 

Colin beams, his smile so wide that lines bracket the corners of his mouth. It’s like little parentheses emphasising where Bradley should focus. Bradley swipes the back of his hand across his own mouth, folds the spout of the milk inward and places it back in the fridge.

“Won a fortune on the slot machines on your way back from the pool? I can be your kept man?”

“No and no. Though that does have potential.” Colin bustles into the room and starts unpacking his swimming gear, hanging his wet things over the rail between the bedroom and the sunken lounge. He doesn’t tell Bradley, but looks up coyly, expectantly, from under his lashes.

“What?” Bradley demands.

“You’ve got to guess.”

“I did guess.”

“Try again. It’s ‘romantic’.” Colin makes air-quotes with his fingers, still grinning.

Bradley harrumphs theatrically, “Well, I’ll never get it then! I don’t know...hired a sky-writer to write ‘Colin loves Bradley 4 eva’ across the sky outside the window?”

Colin chuckles at that. He skips down the stairs and takes Bradley’s face in his hands, kissing him quick. “Well, you’ll just have to see then won’t you?”

Bradley scowls at him, reaching to wrap his arms around Colin’s warm body. Colin dodges away.

“C’mon,” Colin looks over to the clock on the bedside table. "It's 11.30, let’s get some breakfast. We’ve got a couple of hours before.”

“Before?” Bradley asks.

“Before the booking I made.” 

At Bradley’s questioning look, Colin only smiles wider. “This is going to be grand,” he says.

Later, full of croissants, hot chocolate and juice, they stroll out the front doors of the Venetian casino and along the balcony, taking pictures of the recreated Venetian buildings, the fluted colonnades, the tower. Colin trails his fingers along the striated pink stone. He waves a pamphlet in Bradley’s direction.

“This is actually all imported from Italy, you know,” Colin says. “The stone. Can you imagine?”

Bradley nods. More than anything he’s enjoying Colin’s enthusiasm, the happiness of his smile. He is finally starting to look relaxed and as Colin relaxes, Bradley relaxes.

Colin pulls him along to the balcony edge, peering over the finely wrought stonework.

“And look, can you believe it?” 

Down below there are gondolas, beautifully painted and lacquered. They bob in the brilliant blue of the man-made stream that flows through the building.

“I don’t believe it!” Bradley exclaims, echoing Richard’s catch-phrase and Colin smiles even wider.

“Come on, “ Colin says, “Let’s go on one.” He fits his hand properly to Bradley’s, interweaving their fingers together and leading him to the escalators.

“You’ve got to book.”

“Yes, I know.” Colin says. He leans in and kisses Bradley, as long as the downwards motion of the escalator allows. “Surprise!”

They wait in the queue until Colin’s booked timeslot. Bradley chats to the family behind them in line. Colin fidgets, getting as far as bouncing up and down on his feet a few times, until Bradley turns a raised eyebrow on him.

Their gondola slides up to the docking platform. Their gondolier, dressed in black trousers, traditional striped shirt and a boating hat, gives Colin a hand into the boat and Colin turns to do the same to Bradley, kissing him fleetingly on the knuckles.

They sit, cosy together in the narrow bench, as the gondolier pushes them out into the water. Colin widens his eyes and grins even harder, a familiar expression of happy excitement. Bradley settles his arm around him, pulling him closer. Bradley pushes his sunglasses on and looks up into the clear blue sky.

The boat shifts gently side to side with the movement of the water and the soft, surging rhythm of the gondolier propelling it forward. Colin is watching Bradley intently. He’s a little flushed and, out of the corner of his eye, Bradley can see him staring. He pokes his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose and enjoys Colin’s attention.

Behind them, the gondolier starts singing, a clear, operatic sound. Bradley isn’t familiar with it, but it’s pleasant and the whole atmosphere settles around them. He turns to meet Colin’s gaze.

“This is something special.”

“You’re something special,” Colin whispers back. His eyes are bright and intent. He looks down, Bradley following the movement. He watches as Colin takes his hand, entwining their fingers together. With his other, Colin caresses the back of his hand then stills, holding Bradley’s hand gently between his own.

Colin leans closer to Bradley, angling his body and tipping forward slightly with the rocking of the boat. His knee shifts off the bench, touching down on the floor as he balances himself. Colin smiles, soft and private at him. Just as Colin opens his mouth, the gondolier bends down and interrupts them.

“We take photo now, yes?” 

Colin glances up sharply, a terse puff of air escaping his mouth. The gondolier gestures to the photographer positioned on the bridge they’re approaching and Colin jams himself back into the seat. The private moment is lost.

The rest of the ride is spent in near silence. They pass under the bridge, the light darkening, Bradley pressing a quick kiss to Colin’s temple, then the light returning. The gondolier sings softly and they watch the faux-Venetian architecture pass by.

They return to the docking platform and Colin’s face has lost some of its wonder. Bradley’s not sure what’s changed in the ten minutes they’ve been bobbing along, but something’s irritating Colin. Bradley steps carefully off the boat and then offers Colin his hand. Colin ignores it, choosing to make an ungainly giant step across the gap. Bradley’s fingers hover near Colin’s sleeve but he makes it without intervention.

There’s a booth, selling photos, just up the stairs from where they alight. Three photos are displayed on the screen when they arrive. Colin seems disinterested, muttering that it wasn’t quite what he’d planned and lets Bradley do the looking.

Bradley shakes his head at Colin’s irritability. The first shot shows them in movement; Colin holding Bradley’s hand in his, half back into his seat, knee to the floor. Colin’s head is turned away. Bradley knows this look well, the quick flick of his head, eyes elsewhere, mouth a straight line: perhaps not one for the photo album. But the other two are lovely, they’re smiling together, Bradley with one arm around Colin’s shoulders. Bradley’s favourite has Colin shifted down a little in his seat, the corner of his shoulder tucked against Bradley’s chest and it shows off the long line of Colin’s legs. He points to that one on the screen and has them print off two copies, unfolding notes from his wallet to pay. 

They spend the rest of the day shopping, eating, playing the slot machines and drinking complimentary drinks.

Bradley’s just returning from the loo. He's picked up two packets of crisps from the bar on the way through and is making his way to the bank of slot machines where he'd last seen Colin.

He rounds the corner and can see Colin gesticulating. One hand is squashed to his ear. He's on his phone. Colin runs his other hand, hard, through his hair in a gesture of agitation.

“ --got to do this. Mum, tell me I can do this.” Colin leans his head in his hand for a moment before adding in a rush, “I can’t go on like this.”

Bradley stops, staring at Colin’s back as Colin nods his head to whatever his Mum is saying.

“It’s now or never,” Colin adds emphatically, his hand clutching at his hair.

Bradley plonks himself down on the stool next to Colin and dumps the crisps packets onto the table between their machines. He notes there are fresh beers. Colin jerks back when Bradley appears next to him, smoothing his hair down self-consciously.

Colin schools his voice into a more even tone. “And what else? How’s Neil?” he asks into the phone, then, turning to Bradley, “It’s Mum,” he says sotto voce. 

Bradley can now hear Mrs. Morgan’s voice emanating from the phone. He blows kisses at the phone and says loudly, “Hello Mrs. Morgan.”

He has a familiar conversation, with Colin, made up of gestures and mouthed words - ‘Do you want to talk?’, eyebrow lift, ‘Don’t mind,’ and a shrug - all while Colin makes appropriate sounds at the right places in his phone conversation. Bradley picks up his packet of crisps and that seems to decide it. Colin turns his full attention back to the phone.

“Bradley sends kisses...yes...Mum!” a sigh, “I’ll tell him. Yes, of course I will.” Colin makes blowing kisses gestures from the phone back to Bradley, rolling his eyes.

“I’m gonna go Mum, o.k?” There’s a pause, Mrs. Morgan saying something soft and low.

“Yeah, thanks. ‘Course I’ll let you know. Bye.” Colin thumbs the phone off. He stares at it for a moment before closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the screen. "Give me strength,” he whispers quietly to himself.

Bradley smiles and offers him a crisp. Mothers!

Colin takes a handful, stuffing them into his mouth messily, despite the fact that he’s talking, “She says, ” and he angles his head just like his mother and raises the pitch of his voice, “ ‘No son-in-law of mine is going to call me Mrs. Morgan’.” His eyes are riveted to Bradley’s. “It drives her crazy you know,” he adds.

“Well there’s always the Elvis chapel,” Bradley responds.

The corner of Colin’s mouth begins to tug upwards.

“After all, “ Bradley adds, “I am a hunk of burning love.” He swivels his hips in a ridiculous fashion, rolling his eyes in mockery.

“Yes, of course,” Colin says quickly, snorting. He turns to a gaudy slot machine, lips pursed in disapproval. He’s the image of his mother when he does that and it reminds Bradley of the first time that she’d tried to get him to call her by her first name...

Colin had wanted to do something quiet for his thirtieth so they’d gone home to Colin's Mum's place. Neil had come from Boston, Katie from Oxford and together with Colin’s oldest friends they’d got royally drunk around a bonfire in the Morgan’s backyard, Mrs. Morgan feeding them until they were all fit to burst.

Later that evening Bradley had shushed Mrs. Morgan out of the kitchen, “Go on, out you go, I’ll clear up, Mrs. Morgan.”

“For goodness sake, call me by my first name.”

“Of course, Mrs. Morgan.”

She just laughed and ruffled his hair. Her eyes went serious for a moment. “Your mother raised a good boy, Bradley,” she said before pulling him into a hug. She held him to her for a moment, fitting his head into her shoulder.

“I couldn’t have asked for better,” she murmured quietly against his hair, before releasing him and turning away to the kitchen door. Bradley smiled after her, hands on his hips amid the party debris.

Colin had come in about half an hour later, seeking him out, and Bradley was up to his elbows in washing up suds. Colin scooted his fingers around Bradley's waist, snuggling himself up against Bradley's back.

Bradley sucked in a shocked breath as icy fingers tugged his shirt free to settle against the skin of his waist.

“Bloody hell, Colin!”

Colin smiled against his shoulder blade and pressed his cold lips against the back of Bradley’s shirt until they were no longer cold and Bradley was angling his neck inviting more of Colin’s mouth. Colin started kissing him in earnest, flicking his tongue against the sensitive place at the nape of his neck and pushing forward to pin Bradley still against the counter with his hips.

When Bradley lifted his hands from the water, reaching for the tea towel, Colin pushed away.

Bradley turned around, about to scold Colin for his teasing ways when Colin pushed the kitchen door shut and leaned his body against it. “Come here,” he said.

Where Colin went, Bradley followed.

It had been good times for them. Colin had been happy, flushed on people around him who loved him and Bradley was flushed on Colin’s happiness. Even Richard had still been with them, then.

Richard had caught up with them a few weeks after Colin had turned thirty. He’d held a small dinner party and toasted Colin with shining eyes and sparkling wine. As the numbers had dwindled into the night, they’d sat back on Richard’s firm couch, “Can’t sink in and never get out again at my age, dear boy,” while the coffee percolator burbled.

Richard had disappeared into the kitchen and, when he came back, he'd been wheeling a tray. Bradley had jumped to help him and was shooed away. The rich smell of good coffee wafted from the tray and there, lined up, were three mugs, sugar, milk and a neat black box.

“Bradley, you do the honours here,” Richard had gestured to the tray, “while I bestow a little honour of my own.”

Picking up the box, Richard had settled himself next to Colin. He drew their hands together, placing them over the box perched on his knees.

“Don’t think me cheap,” Richard said, directing a quelling eyebrow over his glasses at Colin, “but this is something of my own. Call it recycling if you like.”

Colin gazed up at Richard curiously and Bradley watched them both fondly.

Richard let Colin’s hands go with a gentle pat. “Go on, open it.”

When Colin opened the box, Bradley had been able to see rolled up pink material. As Colin lifted it out, it unfurled to reveal the most glorious pink tie. Colin had run his hands down the material gently. “Thank you.”

“Well, you see, ” Richard had shifted a bit, the way he had when he was working up to a story, “I know it’s not always so easy to be a young man, with a young man.” He winked at Bradley. “And sometimes the weight of wearing that burden became unbearable for me, so I can only imagine what it must be like for you. But this was given to me by a young man many years ago and he said to wear it, and think of who I am and that even on those days when I can’t be open, I can still wear this and know in myself.

“Ah,” Richard waved his hand in the air, “it all sounds so trite now that I’m saying it.”

“No!” Colin interrupted taking Richard’s hands in his. “It’s just perfect.”

Colin had smiled so beautifully that it was like the happiness was imbuing his skin, his eyes clear and bright. Bradley was so busy watching the delight on Colin’s face as he caressed the tie, that the mug he was filling overflowed and he had to grab a napkin to dab at the excess.

Colin grinned at Bradley and turned back to Richard, “Thank you,” he said squeezing his hand. “You’re always so good to me.”

Richard disengaged from Colin’s hands, and touched him gently on the face, dipping his head down to place a kiss on his forehead. “Happy Birthday.”

Bradley passed around the coffee and Colin carefully rolled the tie up and placed it back in its box.

“Are you sure?” he had asked Richard.

Richard laughed. “Well it’s a bit late for me to be wearing a secret homosexual tie, isn’t it?”

“And pink is so subtle,” Bradley deadpanned, poking Colin in the leg.

Bradley finds himself lost in his own reverie, thinking back to these early days when their relationship was still a secret. He’d never realised, until Richard had addressed it, that Colin hadn't always found it as easy to keep their relationship under wraps as Bradley did. There was always an edge to Colin’s voice when he mimicked the Merlin catch-phrase, ‘keep it secret,’ but it had taken the gesture from Richard for Bradley to see.

Bradley sighs to himself, and takes a swig of his beer. Too often, he can’t see what’s going on with Colin, even though it’s going on right in front of his face. “You’ve got to tell me,” he’s always said to Colin, “I’m not so good at this. Just tell me.” Maybe he gets too caught up in his own projects, but he’s not sure if that’s the case and regardless, it’s not a good enough excuse. He should see, shouldn’t he? He should know what Colin needs.

He turns, watching Colin under the flashing casino lights. Colin is biting his lip, still angled slightly away from Bradley, and jabbing his fingers at the slot machine buttons with vigour.

The motion is automatic; press, press, watch the numbers scroll by. Colin’s fingers move perfunctorily and Bradley can see the poker machines numbers reflected in his eyes.

Press, press, watch the numbers. Colin’s staring at the machine but it’s impossible to tell if he’s really watching.

Colin’s machine has a small win and the balance total goes up, a jaunty jingle playing from the speakers. Colin’s fingers hesitate over the buttons for a moment, but otherwise he remains unmoved.

Suddenly Bradley realises it’s been ages since he’s bought him anything, wrapped him in clothes he likes, soft and flowing or given him a beautiful tie like Richard had done. Colin tends to wear things until they fall apart. He likes to know what’s his and that he’s lived in it. Maybe it’s time for something new, Bradley muses.

He toes Colin in the shin with his trainer.

“You, my young man,” Bradley says, Colin raises a doubtful eyebrow at Bradley’s choice of descriptive, “need new clothes. I’m taking you shopping this afternoon. We’ll start with Tie me up, Tie me down.” Just for good measure, Bradley waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Sure. Fine,” Colin answers, not looking up. He presses the buttons reflexively and all Bradley sees is the blur of the poker machine program mirrored in Colin’s eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Bradley saunters in from the bathroom, still brushing his teeth, towel around his waist. As he comes into the room Colin stills, hand outstretched towards the shelf, cutting a surreptitious look to Bradley.

Bradley catches it out the corner of his eye. 

Colin’s got his back to him and his satchel is open.

Bradley’s instantly curious, but he doesn’t ask around his mouthful of toothpaste. He angles his body further away so he can still see Colin from the furthest point in his peripheral vision.

Colin flicks his head up, presumably to reassure himself that Bradley’s not paying attention, and slides a shirt and his favourite hoodie off the shelf. They’re folded meticulously just as Colin likes: neat diagonal lines like an envelope. Either way, they’re folded flat and they slide perfectly into the open space of Colin’s satchel in one silent, furtive movement.

Colin goes to click the clasp shut but thinks the better of it. Bradley hums a tune from last night’s show, and makes a show of staring out the window. Colin lets his bag drop, horizontal, onto the floor, scuffs it half under the bed with his foot and turns back to the wardrobe as if he’s been fussing with his new clothes the whole time.

Bradley feels the soft whump the bag makes when it hits the floor all the way to the pit of his stomach. The toothbrush is forgotten as he stares at Colin’s back, until the mint-sweet froth becomes too much and he gags, a little of it spilling out of the corner of his mouth as he turns to hurry back to the bathroom and spit into the sink.

He looks up at himself in the mirror over the basin. He can already see the worry line forming on his forehead, before he spits into the basin a second time. Colin loves that hoodie; it’s ratty and old and he sits up in bed in it to keep out the chill. It smells of Colin and faintly like sex, and when Bradley rolls over he presses his face into its brushed cotton softness. Colin never wears it in public and Bradley can’t help but wonder where he’s taking it so secretly, who will be there to see Colin curled up in it, if they know what the zip feels like under their teeth.

Bradley gulps a cool mouthful of water, swilling it around to chase away the sudden sourness in his mouth.

They head out for a late three o'clock lunch. They’re well and truly on Vegas time now and it’s all blending into unending days of sleep, shopping, making love, seeing the shows, eating. It should be perfect. Colin’s looking rested--he's been sleeping sprawled across their vulgarly large bed until the sheets leave wrinkles embedded in his face--and when he smiles, it almost reaches his eyes.

They amble through the maze of cobbled streets at the Venetian shops, watching the gondolas float by. Colin stops at the top of the bridge leading into St. Mark’s square. He tugs Bradley to a stop just as they crest the bridge and they lean over the railing, watching the reflection of the fake twilight sky shimmering off the water. Colin pulls a coin from his pocket. Clasping Bradley’s hand fiercely, he presses it to his lips, closes his eyes and breathes one deep breath. In. Out. He tosses the coin into the water where it cuts back and forth before coming to rest at the bottom of the canal.

“Wish me luck?” he says to Bradley, smiling and leading him down the steps and into the square.

They make for the cafe they’ve been enjoying, Postrio. It seems foolish to keep coming back here, with so much on offer, but it’s great and Bradley can’t go past a good sandwich.

They’re seated efficiently and Bradley’s thinking he doesn’t even need to look at the menu when Colin is reaching for his mobile. Bradley hadn’t even heard it ring. Colin has a brief, unusually loud, conversation before turning to Bradley.

“Ruth says I need to look at this contract now. Do you mind if I get her to fax it and I go and grab it from reception?” He angles the phone away from his ear slightly when he’s talking to Bradley. One hand over the speaker. He always does this when he’s on the phone.

Bradley’s about to ask if it can’t wait an hour when his gaze strays to the phone. None of the buttons are lit up. “Um,” he stalls clumsily. He lets his gaze meander across the phone again; it’s definitely off. He’s not willing to call Colin on it, not here, not now.

“Go if you need to go,” he finally answers.

He looks away while Colin winds up the imaginary telephone call. As Colin signs off Bradley looks at him intently, wondering if he can pick out that Colin's lying, is there a tell? Bradley can’t see it if there is. Perhaps he’s a little exaggerated but nothing Bradley would have noticed otherwise, and isn’t that a horrifying thought? Here’s his partner of ten years and he can’t tell that he’s lying to his face.

Colin picks up his satchel and Bradley can see the weight of it on his shoulders, the burden of those clothes packed so secretly inside. He wants to grab Colin by the arm, pull him back down into the chair, pull him back down into the bed they’ve been sharing, the life they’ve made together. But now he’s being melodramatic. Colin touches him on the shoulder as he goes past.

“Order something simple, not too much for me. I’ll be back soon.”

“I hope so,” Bradley replies, but Colin’s already walked away. He doesn’t look back.

Bradley agonises over the menu. He doesn’t want the sandwich now. He wants something they can share, wants something they can eat together - fingers brushing, breaking bread together like everything that is sacred.

He orders wine, a smooth Californian chardonnay that he can’t go wrong with.

He orders a Moroccan chickpea dish and a fennel and mandarin salad. He thinks Colin will like them. He wants him to be impressed and pleased that he thought of him. Bradley wonders if it even matters anymore.

He sits for a moment, head in his hands, and wonders if it’s all going as badly wrong as he fears.

He is always the one that starts something and Colin the one that finishes it - it’s been the story of their whole time together. Bradley might appear impulsive and the king of the big gesture on the outside, but inside it's a different story. He's loyal and steadfast and true. When he promises, he promises forever. Colin, on the other hand, is a strange mix of odd formality and fierce private passion. And although he doesn't show it much, Colin likes to have it all - all or nothing. Colin doesn't like to settle for anything less. Bradley doesn’t like the idea he’s forming of what Colin might have decided.

It had all seemed so easy when they started. But maybe, in retrospect, it had been too easy...

They’d just wrapped the fifth series of Merlin. The final series.

Two opposing sides had been lined up, Mercia and Camelot. Line upon line of soldiers echoing back across the field. The noise had been unbearable; the deafening clash of steel, the creak of leather, curdling shrieks of the dying and wounded and under it all, the clank of mail and stomp of feet as each side had fought.

Now there was nothing, an absence.

King Uther had fallen.

The battlefield had stilled to watch as his body was borne away on a stretcher flanked by soldiers. The splendour of the Pendragon honour guard encircled him with their silvered armour and billowing capes.

His son, Crown Prince Arthur of Camelot, called out the Mercian king in single combat.

“No more blood need be shed this day,” Arthur proclaimed, “No more blood, but one.”

He saluted his foe before the blows began.

And Bayard fell.

Blood sluiced down Arthur’s sword before Bayard slid backwards off the blade and slumped to the ground. The only sound was the clatter and thump of his corpse hitting the churned earth.

Arthur stood proud and tall amid the mud and blood of the battlefield. He stood over the body of the Mercian king, having vanquished his enemy and avenged his father through his own sweat and skill and might at arms.

The remaining Mercian soldiers fell to their knees in surrender. Arthur’s own knights dropped at once. A wind ripped across the battlefield, shaking out a red pennant in the background to snap in the wind.

Merlin’s voice rang out loud and true, “The king is dead. Long live the king.”

He too, bent to one knee before his liege.

“Long Live King Arthur,” he cried and the whole battlefield echoed with it.

“Cut!”

The entire crew turned to look at Jeremy, the air of gravitas from the scene shifting onto him. Jeremy checked the monitor, “It’s a wrap,” he yelled and the cast and crew cheered.

Colin surged to his feet, eyes shining and he launched himself at Bradley. He smacked soundly into his breast plate and Bradley held him there, slapping him on the back and hugging him tight. Five years, who could believe it, five years? He lifted Colin off his feet and swung him around like a kid. Colin laughed delightedly.

Bradley held on for all he was worth and slowed to let Colin’s feet catch the muddy ground again.

Colin laughed again against his ear, a shaky sound that didn't quite know whether it was a laugh or the start of a sob and then Bradley was clutching him. How could it all be over? 

Bradley took a deep steadying breath as the euphoria became a kind of wrenching ache. One of Colin’s hands slid into his hair even as he began to disengage, others beginning to crowd around them. Bradley wanted to hold on, to hold them together for just a moment longer and it was out of his mouth before he even realised.

“God, I want you,’ he blurted against Colin’s ear.

Colin’s arm tightened and Bradley didn't know whether it was shock or Colin pulling him closer in response, but then Colin was pulling away and laughing, “Jesus, Bradley, buy a guy a drink first.”

They were pulled apart and into the arms of cast and crew swarming around them.

Bradley didn't really see Colin again until the after-party, but then they were almost inseparable. Bradley was in his neat shirt, cuffs rolled up to expose the tanned line of his forearm, Colin wrapped in his ever-present hoodie. They hung off each other most of the night, except when they were hanging off the girls. Bradley had a few drinks and was pleasantly buzzed. Every time he turned to pay attention to Colin talking, he got an eyeful of the tendon running down from behind Colin’s ear to disappear into the soft folds of his top.

He tried to remember if he’d pressed up against it, hugging him close when the final scene had wrapped but he couldn't remember. Not with Colin’s arm slung about his shoulder, the hazy lateness of the night seeping into him and the recklessness of wine warming his blood.

Colin hadn't drunk much, he never did, and he had been nursing the same final inch of beer at the bottom of the bottle for the previous half hour. People were starting to tire and drift away, the adrenaline wearing off.

The girls had just thrown their arms around each of them in turn, pressing them into warm hugs before retiring, and as they walked away, Colin began to unwind his arm from about Bradley’s shoulders too.

Bradley baulked at the loss, panic rising a little as he thought of Colin slipping away from him, when Colin leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Are you going to buy me that drink?”

Bradley blinked for a moment, stupefied. “The bar is ope--” he started to say and then stopped, blinking, suddenly understanding. “Yes,” he turned to race to the bar, “I’m right on that,” he grinned back at Colin, as he leaned across the wooden bench, hurrying the bartender up and returning with a new beer for Colin.

Bradley grinned, probably stupidly, as Colin raised the bottle in salute, “Cheers, mate,” before taking a long draught. 

Bradley made embarrassingly stilted small talk, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass and willing Colin’s beer to evaporate.

“You really are bad at this talking to dates thing, aren’t you?”

Bradley looked affronted, “Well, I. It’s not that--”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.“ Colin rolled his eyes before bending to place his half empty beer bottle down. “Come with me.” He strode purposefully for the door.

They entered the lift and Colin’s fingers nestled into his hair, pulling Bradley towards him. The handrail lining the lift pushed Colin’s hips forward in an enticing jut, as he leaned back against the wall, tugging Bradley closer.

Bradley resisted Colin’s pull just enough to slow it down. He didn't want to rush, wanted to remember this first touch. There was the cool press of the material of his trousers against his skin as their legs aligned, then heat seeping through, hint by hint as they moved into each other.

Bradley curled to the right, his hand touching Colin’s waist. He skimmed it upwards, slowly across his ribs, pressing across his chest. Colin’s fingers tightened in his hair as he drew him closer. Bradley’s fingers ghosted up to Colin’s neck, the inside of his wrist pushing against his collar bone as the pads of his fingers made first contact with the fine skin of Colin’s throat.

Colin’s lips were parted, the tiniest of noises escaping as Bradley’s fingernails scraped against the stubble under his chin, along the line of his jaw. He touched the planes of his face until it he came to rest, thumb against the lobe of Colin's ear, fingers deep in the darkness of his hair, cradling his face as Bradley curled around him.

Bradley ran the tip of his nose, a ghost of a touch, against the curve of Colin’s cheek.

“Hello,” Bradley said.

Colin’s eyes flicked down, seemingly to watch Bradley's lips move, and then fell shut. He closed that final centimetre until their lips met. A soft pressure at first, a little tentative, then an open-mouthed taste, an open invitation.

Colin pulled back a fraction, taking in a deep breath before fitting their mouths together again. The angle was better this time, Bradley realised, as Colin coaxed his mouth open, tanging their tongues together. Colin sucked on his tongue until his could feel the ache of arousal deep down in his groin.

They tumbled out of the lift, barely breaking apart as they ricocheted down the corridor.

At Colin’s door, Bradley wedged his leg between Colin’s thighs, insistent and impatient and pressed with firm pulses against him until Colin’s body answered.

When Colin’s door opened with a shaky slide of the key card and a soft click, Bradley manhandled Colin backwards across the room. The door closed itself with silent, hydraulic precision and no one saw them fall, bouncing with gasping breaths onto the bed and into each other.

Bradley’s knees were on either side of Colin’s hips, arms bracketing his head as they kissed, deep and dirty. Colin’s fingers made quick work of the buttons of Bradley’s shirt and when Bradley came up for air, Colin stripped the shirt back, down Bradley’s arms and off. He rose to a sitting position himself whispering, “Fuck, yes, Bradley,” and planted a hand in the middle of Bradley’s back, pushing their chests together as Colin's teeth made contact with Bradley’s adam’s apple.

Bradley let out a strangled moan and he could feel goosebumps rising on his skin, tingly cold against the heat of Colin’s tongue. He grabbed the hem of Colin’s top and tugged it up his body. The neckline of Colin's hoodie got caught on Colin’s chin.

“Gotta touch you, Col,” Bradley was saying, abandoning the top to hang, scarf-like, around Colin’s neck, “been wanting to for so long.” He pushed Colin back down onto the bed.

Colin was desperately trying to wrangle himself out of his top, to hook it over his chin and lift it off his head. The angle arched his back and Bradley shuffled down his legs to run guerrilla kisses along his chest. Forays of kisses down Colin's sternum, the hot swirl of Bradley's tongue around the rim of his belly button. Colin’s breaths were loud and shuddering, his belly concave, as Bradley bit his way up Colin's ribs, up to his nipples.

Colin’s head popped out of his top “ --eezus, Bradley”.

Bradley’s hands hooked into Colin’s jeans and he ripped the button open and the zip apart, splaying out the material just enough to release Colin’s cock. He wrapped his hand around Colin's cock and pulled in long firm strokes.

“Tell me we’re doing this now, Colin?”

Colin’s eyes are startled wide for a moment.

“Yes,” he answered, pulling Bradley to him. ”Yes,” Colin was kissing him frantically, between rushed words, “...been touching me for years. Don’t stop now.”

Bradley stripped his own pants open, pushing in with a hand, to pull his own cock out and palm them both together.

Colin let out a strangled exhale.

“Fuck. Condoms,” he gasped, edging up the bed and stretching one arm towards the bedside table.

Colin’s whole body was stretched diagonally across the bed, as his fingers scrabbled with the drawer handle. Bradley’s hand was huge, sheathing them together, as they moved, thrusting frantically. Bradley pushed up on his free elbow to look at them both, together, their cocks sliding, hot and hard, through the circle of his fist.

As Colin reached, Bradley looked up and the tendon of Colin’s neck pulled taut. Bradley swooped down to mouth it, sucking hard.

“Bradley, fuck! “ Colin’s hips spasmed, “I’m gonna-- “ his cock hardened impossibly, pressed against Bradley’s and he came in fluttering pulses between them.

The sound of Colin gasping indignantly under him and the sudden slick slide of his own cock, slipping freely in his fist, pushed Bradley over the edge, too. His teeth stuttered against Colin’s neck as he lost it, Colin jerking in response.

Bradley lifted his head to see Colin’s hand flop from the half-open drawer. He pressed their lips together for a heavy-breathing, messy kiss before rolling onto his back at Colin’s side. He kicked his tangled pants to the floor.

They lay here together, breath racing. Colin grumbled about the mess on his stomach, running his fingers through their sticky seed.

Bradley could feel himself relaxing. The sudden rush of adrenaline and pleasure left in its wake a kind of sleepy contentment. He tangled one hand with Colin’s and draped the other across his eyes. He felt the bed dip and shift as Colin moved next to him.

Colin’s leg hooked over his own, the slight itch of two hairy legs moving together, and Colin’s foot started to rub languidly against his calf. There’s was more movement, the swipe of cloth across his abdomen and Bradley guessed that Colin was cleaning them up. He hoped fuzzily that he wasn't using Bradley’s shirt.

Then came the sound of material landing on the floor and Colin moved again until he was leaning half over Bradley’s chest. He placed kisses against the curve of Bradley's ribs.

Bradley took a deep, even breath, shifting towards sleep. Colin continued to mouth his way up Bradley’s chest, his teeth grazing Bradley’s nipple. Bradley cracked an eye open. The point of Colin’s tongue circled very exactly, the shape of his nipple. Colin quirked an eyebrow at him, when he saw Bradley watching, before nibbling his way further up Bradley's chest.

“Hello there,” Colin said, grinning.

Bradley’s hand fitted perfectly into Colin’s hair as he pulled him down onto his chest, arms wrapping around him. He shut his eyes again, allowing the slowing cadence of his breathing to continue to pull him towards sleep.

Colin shook himself free. 

“Bradley James, you are not going to sleep now.”

When Bradley blinked his eyes open once more, Colin’s lips were pursed, but he looked like he was probably amused.

“M’tired,” Bradley said, before flopping his arm back over his eyes.

“Grand, “ Colin said, jiggling the bed as he rose to his knees. Colin planted his hands at Bradley’s hip and shoulder and neatly flipped him over. “All the more for me,” he said.

Colin ran his tongue, swirling, down every single knob of Bradley’s spine. By the time he crested the swell of Bradley’s bottom, Bradley’s breath was coming in short, hitching gasps and he was squirming under the firm pressure of Colin’s hands. Bradley might have been tired, but he wasn't an idiot.

Colin Morgan. Right from the start, he'd always got his way.

God, it all seems so long ago, Bradley thinks. He still has his head cradled in his hands and somewhere along the line, the bottle of wine he’s ordered has arrived. His wineglass has been filled and it sits untouched, at his, their, table.

“May I sit here?”

The question interrupts Bradley’s slowly evolving panic and he looks up. Colin is standing there, wearing a thin t-shirt and his disgraceful hoodie. He shuffles nervously on his feet, and Bradley hasn’t seen him do that since the Merlin days.

Bradley shakes his head to clear it. Colin starts to frown.

Is he so far gone he’s overlaying his Colin with the uncomplicated Colin of their first, frantic hook-up? Bradley scrunches up his eyes for a second and then looks up at Colin. No. The hoodie is almost the same, a different shade of green perhaps but similar enough.

“Surely you can buy a guy a drink.” The old/new Colin says, interrupting Bradley's train of thought.

Bradley jerks his mind into the present, running his eye over this version of Colin, so similar to the way he looked that first time, so long ago. He doesn’t know what to say, maybe he’s just meant to play along. Colin’s rocking onto the balls of his feet, growing impatient with Bradley’s lack of response.

“Though I suppose…” Colin blatantly runs his eyes over Bradley, “a guy like you has probably got someone, somewhere.” He quirks a questioning eyebrow and looks around exaggeratedly.

He leans down, one hand flat against the table top, and fixes Bradley with his most predatory, charming smile. “Come on, you know you want to.”

Bradley starts to smile, fingers playing along the stem of his wineglass. “Just one drink,” Bradley allows, and gestures to the chair opposite.

Colin beams, seating himself. He extends his hand. “I’m Colin.” He grazes his thumb across the thin skin of Bradley’s wrist as they shake. Despite himself, Bradley shivers at the touch.

Colin makes small, careful conversation. He doesn’t reveal a lot about himself initially. He asks Bradley about himself and when Bradley pretends to peruse the wine list and select the chardonnay that’s sitting in the ice bucket next to him Colin’s comments turn to innuendo. “Ah, a man who likes to be in charge.”

Bradley actually finds he’s having fun. When Colin asks if he does have a partner he says he does, and complains that he purses his lips like a washer-woman sucking a lemon when he’s unhappy with him. Colin’s eyes narrow minutely and Bradley’s sure he’ll be paying for it later so he adds that his partner is magic which his mouth too.

Colin laughs shyly then, and says he’s a little bit magic himself. Opens up about a new magic project he’s been asked to work on and tells Bradley what an opportunity it is, how he feels like his whole world is being laid out at his feet if he can just get it right. There’s an old hesitancy about Colin that is familiar. Bradley remembers Colin starting out; when he was grounded in his ethics of hard work and dedication, but still so unsure about whether that would be enough, whether he could give enough to make it all work out.

He’s so different, this Colin; a ghost of his own past.

This is not his Colin, his gorgeous, talented Colin who has just finished his third run of Richard III, widely regarded as the finest portrayal of Richard of his generation. Bradley remembers the first time he’d seen Colin in the role.

He’d been three seats from the front and wishing he wasn’t. As Colin had stood over the bodies of the dead Princes, the dead child Princes, the woman sitting next to him had been weeping openly. Bradley found himself leaning away from the stage, overtaken by equal parts abhorrence and awe. It was Colin's master work and Bradley had been overflowing with pride in him in that moment. So totally enamoured of who Colin was and what he could do.

Bradley realises he’s zoning out again - lost in worried memories, their relationship flashing before his eyes. He thinks back through how strange Colin has been behaving lately and he shivers again. Maybe he’s just looking at Colin differently now. It takes a conscious effort to wrench his mind back to the present.

He’d never really seen this Colin, the one who is before him right at this very minute, charming and direct and on-the-pull. When they’d hooked up, they’d been friends for so long--on the brink of something for almost as long--that there was never this sense of being unknown to each other.

Bradley is suddenly uncomfortable. His wine is gone; Colin is almost finished too and Bradley feels disoriented. He doesn’t know what’s going on and he’s tired and worried. He can’t think straight for long enough to make sense of it all, to catch on to what Colin is up to and Colin clearly doesn’t want him to. He’s touching him with every second gesture, eyes soft and lips inviting and so very ‘on’. He’s thickened up his accent and as Bradley makes to move back from the table, Colin hooks his foot around his leg and skims his toes up the neglected skin of his calf. Bradley’s leg twitches so abruptly that he bangs into the table. Colin’s grin is everything wicked.

“Shall we have another drink here, or shall we continue in my room?” Colin asks. He tips his head to the side coquettishly and drags his tongue in a glistening pink slide across his lower lip.

The fear and disorientation collide in Bradley’s body, morphing into adrenaline and suddenly, with absolute clarity, he wants to touch Colin, run his hands all over his body and remind him that he belongs with Bradley and all this flirting, unprecedented strangeness is totally unnecessary. He needs the bill.

“Check,” Bradley calls, hauling Colin to his feet.

“Oh yeah,” Colin says.

Colin’s smirking as he slides the keycard into the door slot. He steps inside, fitting his fingers into Bradley’s hair and pulling him through the door, to pushing him back against it as it closes behind them. It’s all Bradley can do to breath as Colin seals their lips together, the perfect angle, then a push, slide and Colin's tongue is delving into Bradley's mouth, rough and hungry.

It’s a stunning contrast to the agonising minute of non-contact he’s just endured in the lift. Colin had leant up against the lift wall and whispered a stream of obscene beautiful things into the shell of Bradley's ear. 

Bradley hung his head down, not looking at Colin, but colour had heated his face. Colin never spoke like this, never voiced so directly his wants or feelings and Bradley was torn between hazy disorientation and sharp lust swelling in his blood. Just as the lift had slowed, Colin had stepped across him, still that hair’s breadth of space between them, and whispered, “If you were mine, I’d never let you go.” Then the lift doors had opened and Bradley had followed the lilting sway of Colin’s hips down the corridor.

Now they’re behind closed doors and Colin has pulled him down onto the expensive carpet. Colin writhes beneath him, his hands everywhere, pulling one leg up to adjust the angle as they rut against each other, tangling in Bradley's hair, stripping the buttons of Bradley's shirt apart and pushing it down before tugging Bradley into another kiss.

Bradley eyes the bed, just a scant few metres away and pushes up with one hand to rise, but Colin clings to him, desperate. His body moves hotly under Bradley’s, shifting and rubbing perfectly against him. Bradley flicks his eyes once more towards the bed and Colin rises just enough to claim his mouth again--so much kissing--coaxing Bradley’s tongue into his mouth and sucking on it, strong and wicked. All Bradley’s thoughts of the bed flicker and die and he goes slack with pleasure in Colin’s arms, the filthy pull of Colin sucking on his tongue going straight through him to his cock, and he’s so hard now it’s starting to ache.

Colin turns on his hip, and spins Bradley over and under him, kneeling up immediately to undo Bradley’s fly, “Up, Up,” he urges. Colin pulls Bradley's trousers and underwear off in one go. Then his mouth is back on Bradley's in a frenzy of sensation; slow, hot, hard, and ticklish-unbearable. Colin's mouth roams across Bradley's torso, mouthing at his hips, running his tongue oh-so-softly along the length of Bradley’s cock.

Bradley coaxes Colin, with a guiding hand under his chin, to kiss once more. The sound of Colin’s hoodie zip is loud as Bradley undoes it and then he’s pulling Colin's t-shirt off and tossing it away. Their naked torsos are hot, rubbing together skin-to-skin. Colin moves down Bradley’s body, kissing, licking, nibbling, settling into the space between Bradley’s legs. He mouths, unreasonably slowly, at the head of Bradley’s cock for a moment before sitting back on his heels. Colin laughs at Bradley’s protesting whine and replaces his mouth with one hand, moving in a slow, light glide up and down his shaft.

His other goes to the button and zip of his own pants, fumbling them open to pull out his own cock. He fists it slowly as he looks down at Bradley, eyes half-closed.

“I wanted to remember what this was like,” he says softly. Bradley hears, but doesn’t really take it in, and then Colin reaches for his back pocket.

He flourishes a condom packet in front of Bradley’s face, grinning cheekily. “This, my friend, is your lucky day.”

The strangeness of the past few months, Colin’s out of character behaviour, the secrecy, all coalesce in Bradley’s mind in one awful, blinding realisation. Unfaithful. Unfaithful and sick, flashes in blinding technicolour in the forefront of Bradley’s mind and he bolts upright, one hand wrapped tightly around Colin’s wrist and staring, hard-lipped at the offending packet.

“Why do you suddenly need this?” Bradley demands. “We’ve not used condoms in years.”

Colin’s mouth drops open with a little pop and his face changes from cheeky to surprised.

“Do you have something to tell me, Colin?” Bradley presses on. “Do you have something to confess?”

“Wha--?” Colin’s brain obviously catches up with what Bradley is implying as his mouth snaps shut, then open again, and he looks horrified, genuinely aghast. “No,” he says, eyeing the condom packet accusingly. “No.” More vehemently this time, “Thought it might be fun. Different.”

Bradley snorts. 

“I don’t need this,” Colin states, glancing at the condom packet again. A little naughty look lightens his face and he swipes the thumb of his other hand through the pre-come leaking from his dick, pressing that thumb into Bradley’s mouth.

Bradley’s eyes widen but his mouth closes around Colin’s thumb automatically. The familiar taste of Colin makes Bradley’s mouth water and his desire resurges. Colin pulls his thumb out to trace Bradley’s lips before sliding it back in.

Bradley’s grip on Colin’s wrist begins to ease.

“Do you remember what it was like at the start?” Colin asks, pressing a kiss against Bradley’s fingers as his thumb continues to move in and out of Bradley’s mouth.

Bradley nods.

“Do you remember when we couldn’t get enough?” Colin trails his tongue along Bradley’s fingers.

Bradley releases the grip on his wrist.

“Thought I might last a bit longer,” Colin says, jiggling the condom packet at him. He looks down before glancing up coyly through his lashes at Bradley.

Bradley smiles at that, pulling his mouth away from Colin’s thumb.

“Were you going method on me?” he asks.

Colin laughs. “Maybe.” He looks at the condom before tossing it to the floor and reaching for Bradley, “Maybe I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He kisses Bradley gently then, conciliatory, before pushing him back down to the carpet, his hand coming to wrap around both their cocks in a simple rhythm, and they move together, practiced and efficient. Colin works his way down Bradley's torso with his mouth. He presses his teeth against Bradley’s hip bone, hand sliding slick with pre-come across the crown of Bradley’s cock until Bradley is gasping and Colin has to bat his hands away from grabbing in his hair.

“Lube,” Bradley gasps, “Tell me you’ve got lube in that back pocket as well?”

Colin lifts his head and raises a devilish eyebrow. “No, my darling man,” his hands slide up to hook behind Bradley’s knees, pushing until Bradley opens up for him, “you won’t be needing lube.”

Colin Morgan. Bradley always did say he was true to his word.

***

Bradley’s yelling before he’s even properly awake. His calf is cramping and he’s up, reaching for his leg as the shock of pain thrusts him into waking.

Colin’s suddenly there, pushing Bradley back down and kneeling at his hip. He yanks his ankle against his shoulder and pulls Bradley’s knee into his body, using leverage to straighten Bradley’s leg and pull his toes forward. Bradley’s yelling out in pain, and Colin’s telling him, “got you, got you,” as the muscle starts to stretch out.

Bradley’s breath heaves in his chest, reeling from the rude shock. Colin’s got Bradley's leg locked straight and tense. Bradley can feel the cramp twinging as it tries to re-assert itself but Colin isn’t letting go and he’s running a soothing hand along Bradley's calf, easing it, trying to still the tremors rippling through the muscle.

Colin’s touch does help. He's done this many a time before and Bradley’s beginning to wonder whether his body is trained to relax for Colin like this. The muscle gives another half-hearted attempt at spasming, but Colin just continues to hold him fast, running an appeasing hand over him. Colin gives a little push, flattening the heel of his hand against Bradley's calf and when that doesn’t cause Bradley to twitch away in discomfort, he must decide that all is well, because he releases the hand locking Bradley’s knee in place. Bradley bends his leg, though he leaves it propped against Colin’s shoulder.

They’re both naked and Bradley vaguely remembers Colin dragging him to the bed, allegedly to save his own knees from carpet burn. But there’d been a lot of Colin’s tongue before that, and a lot of Colin’s cock after that, so if Bradley’s brain is a bit fuzzy about the logistics, well, that’s probably to be expected.

Now Colin is looking down at him, smiling.

“How long have I been asleep?” Bradley asks, cringing. He knows he’ll get an earful for that.

“About ten minutes,” Colin says, rolling his eyes at him. “You know? I really thought I’d’ve been able to train that out of you by now.”

Colin’s fingers are now making tracing up and down the length of Bradley's leg, tingling against the skin on the inside of his thigh. Bradley arches his back and writhes in a deliberately display.

Colin fits his teeth to Bradley’s instep, where his foot is still resting against Colin’s shoulder and bites until Bradley’s hips twitch up, his cock filling in immediate response as his eyes flutter closed. When Bradley’s back arches this time it’s entirely because Colin makes it so.

The light coming through the window is low, it must be just going dusk and the colours of the neon are starting to bounce off the clouds.

Colin’s teeth leave Bradley’s foot and he starts a slow pace down Bradley's leg. He licks the skin of Bradley's ankle, Colin rubbing the flat of his tongue against the bone there, then presses barely-there kisses against Bradley’s aching calf muscle.

Bradley’s hands fall to the bed and then he can't keep still. His hands travel until they find Colin’s knees, and rest there. He draws circles across the pale skin, fingertips pressing along the skin.

Colin fits his mouth to the back of Bradley’s knee. He sucks and licks the neglected skin there until one of Bradley’s hands come up to tangle in his fringe. Bradley’s fingers tug him downwards and Colin chuckles.

He bites along the inside of Bradley’s thigh. Bradley can feel the bruise there from earlier, the blurred indentation of Colin’s teeth. Colin fits of mouth over the same spot and sucks ruthlessly until Bradley’s whining.

Across the carpet, Bradley can see the crumpled remains of their hasty stripping earlier. Colin’s discarded hoodie is dangling half off a chair. He squints at it, remembering the strangeness that had preceded the frantic blur of sex. Bradley brings his head around to look at Colin as he traverses his thigh.

“Hey?” Bradley pushes against Colin’s forehead, fingers still buried in his hair.

Colin doesn’t raise his head, murmuring a questioning sound against the inside of Bradley’s thigh.

“Hey, Colin?” Bradley pushes a little harder and Colin’s lips break contact. He looks up. The lurid neon light reflects off Colin’s pale skin, painting it hues of blue and red and gold. There are neon highlights bouncing off the occasional white hair that salts Colin’s head. It’s imperfect. It's beautiful.

“Hmmmm?”

“What was that all about?” Bradley gestures towards the hoodie, their discarded clothes.

“Oh.” Both Colin’s mouth and his eyes go wide.

“I, erm,” he says and then stops. He looks away, sets his mouth and then looks back at Bradley.

Colin’s hands twitch and he runs one through his hair. “This is harder than I thought,” he says, with a tight smile.

“Colin?” Bradley starts to sit up and Colin stops him with a hand to his chest and a decisive shake of his head.

“Bradley,” he says. There’s a shadow around his eyes, though perhaps that’s the failing light. His mouth is smiling however, and Bradley waits, Colin’s hand still pressed to his chest.

Colin’s smile falters. He takes a deep breath and then reshapes his mouth back into a smile. He says quickly, “Bradley James, will you marry me?”

Colin looks away from Bradley's gaze, then. Looks down at his hand on Bradley’s chest instead.

Bradley’s mouth opens of its own accord and nothing comes out. His heart throbs in his chest so hard he can feel it, feel each single beat as the seconds tick on in silence.

It's surreal.

Surreal and imperfect and so completely unexpected. It’s everything Bradley wants and didn’t know he wanted. Everything he’d never dreamed of.

Colin still hasn’t looked up and Bradley doesn’t know how long his heart has been thudding in his chest.

He touches Colin’s hand. Moves it to rest over his heart and Colin does look at him then. He’s biting his lip, eyes shielded and it’s then that Bradley realises he’s scared.

“Yes,” Bradley says softly. Hope and relief flare in Colin’s gaze and Bradley repeats it. “Yes.”

Bradley pulls Colin down, pressing their bodies together. He curls his free hand in Colin’s hair and brings their foreheads together. Colin’s eyes are closed and his breathing is shallow and at this moment, Bradley feels the most exquisite gentleness towards him.

“Colin?” he whispers against his lips. He nudges Colin until his eyes open and Bradley can see him, brave and beautiful, terrified.

“Colin. Yes.”

It’s so imperfect that it’s perfect.


End file.
